The Good People of Colorado

I originally wrote the following on June 21, 2010, during our vacation to Marble, Colorado. Despite my best intentions, I didn't write anything further about the rest of the vacation. Most of it was spent reading, anyway, so I guess it wouldn't have been that interesting. Although, there was an incident involving an overturned raft that could have been worth writing about. Regardless, enjoy:

Well, it has been quite a trip already. We started on Saturday morning on the shorter leg of our trip. It was only supposed to be a 5.5 hour drive from Loma Linda to St. George, but with a two-year-old aboard, it turned out to be a fair bit longer. Up until our stop in Las Vegas, the trip was rather uneventful. One of the only things of note was that I found out that I could eat Pintos and Cheese at Taco Bell (not many other restaurants can cater to my broken jaw), so it became a staple for the
rest of the trip.

The other thing that was rather amusing was that Anika kept on saying, "Ani go to Colorado." Finally, her mother decided to explain the entire trip to her. She spared no expense. I mean, we're talking about grand hand-gesture diagrams and full itinerary explanation. First, she detailed how we would be driving up to St. George to where we would spend the first night. The highlight of that leg of the trip for Ani was obviously the hotel pool, which she made sure to emphasize. Then, Nicol described the next leg of our trip from St. George, Utah to Colorado, detailing the drive and how Ani would be able to see her cousins and play with them once we reached Colorado.

After this long and comprehensive description of our journey, Ani sat, wide-eyed for a moment and finally responded, "Go home." Jeff, Nicol, and I all thought this was hilarious, and, after that drawn-out account of our itinerary, I think that deep within us, we felt like turning around and going home as well.

Our first real incident of note occurred shortly after driving through Las Vegas. We stopped at a gas station to let Ani go to the bathroom and piled back into the car to continue our trip, but, when Jeff turned the key to start the van, nothing happened. The engine didn't even attempt to turn over. After trying a few things, we finally popped the hood to see if we could figure out what was going on. A couple of guys hopped out of their car to see if they could help. We knew it must be some sort of electrical problem, so we checked the fuses. They all looked fine, but when we swapped the radio fuse and the starter fuse, everything started working again. It must have just been loose. After thanking God for helping us to figure out the
problem, we were on our way again.

After reaching St. George, enjoying the pool, spending the night at the hotel, and eating breakfast, we were ready to set out on the second leg of our journey. This leg was to be significantly longer - about 8.25 hours. Again, this leg was uneventful for the most part, but once we started to reach our destination, something unexpected and quite inconvenient happened.

As we were climbing the last hill up to the summit of the last pass before Marble (our final destination), Ani started complaining about her tummy hurting. Since we knew we were close, we begged her to hold it and continued up the hill. After the third or so time that Ani complained about her tummy hurting, we realized that she must be carsick. Really carsick. She began to drool, and Jeff immediately stopped the van, but, to our dismay, we watched as mostly-chewed, half digested burrito spewed forth from her gaping maw. It flowed down the front of her, rivulets running over her shirt and carseat. After some heroic clean up efforts by Nicol, Jeff decided that we should pull forward to a better turn-off point. As we pulled forward, he noticed that he no longer had power steering, and the car was overheating. We soon discovered that the serpentine belt had fallen off and we had not packed the tools to fix it.

This is the point in which the real heroes of this story make their entrance - the "good samaritans". As soon as we pulled off the road and opened up our hood, the first person stopped by to try and help. After she hung out for a little while and found out what the problem was, we told her that we would be able to figure something out (after all, we were pretty close to our destination and knew that some of our family were there). Unfortunately, what we hadn't counted on is the complete lack of cell phone reception in and around Marble, Colorado. While we were still trying to figure out what we were going to do, another vehicle stopped and out jumped Chuck. A big, friendly-looking gray-haired man wearing a cowboy hat. He walked over to our van, assessed the situation, informed us that he didn't have any tools, and offered us a ride. We soon learned that he had a wife, Glenda, and a son, Jeremy, in the van along with their dog Brodie. At first, they were going to take just Anika and Nicol with them to get help from our family, but when they saw that Jeff and I were somewhat less than comfortable with this situation, Chuck decided that he had to do what he could to make room for me, as well. Before long, he had cleared the other seat in the van so that I could go as well, and we headed off.

We were able to make it to our final destination with little difficulty, no small thanks to Chuck and his helpful family. After a while, Uncle Tom, Ben, and I were able to head back to help Jeff get the van the rest of the way, but by the time we got there, we saw that another "good samaritan" had stopped to help Jeff and had provided him with the tools he needed to put the serpentine belt back on. As soon as we got there, we were able to head back with Jeff in tow.

As I am sure that the reader can see, the real heroes of our story were the many incredibly thoughtful people who stopped to help us when we had trouble. I'm not sure what we would have done in our close-to-helpless situation if it were not for those that found it in their hearts to help a fellow human in a less-than-ideal situation.

The Chittoor Postmortem

It is over. The chairs have been put away, the tarps stored, and the sound equipment packed. The evangelistic meetings have concluded. It was not an easy four days, but it was deeply meaningful. I think that we made the most impact with the children of the town of Chittoor. Coincidentally, I believe they also made the biggest impact on us as well. At least, I know that they made a significant impact on me.

From the very first, all of the kids would crowd around me, wanting to shake my hand, talk to me, or have me join their coloring group during the VBS activities. To my surprise, even after the initial excitement of having a foreigner amongst them, the kids still wanted to hang around me 100% of the time. There were especially two brothers who loved to be around us (Quinston, Vandeman, and me) and help us in whatever way they could - by carrying our things or going to get us something we needed. In fact, on the last night of the meetings, Sridhar and Joy (the brothers) honored us with "one small gift." It was some sort of display ornament made out of a CD and some plastic decorations. We thanked them profusely and "snapped one photo" (Indians often use the word one instead of the indefinite article a) of us, them and the imparted gift. We also went to their house to visit them the next day after having breakfast, which they were greatly excited about.

To support the view that these children were very excited about having us visit their town, I will relate a story that I heard. Apparently Joy, the younger of the two brothers was so taken with us that one night, after the rest of the family was in bed, he had risen from bed and sneaked out of the house. Making his way out to the main road, he hoped to see us on our way back to the hotel from where we ate supper at the Principal's house. Of course, after hearing a story like this and receiving such a fine gift we had no choice but to visit their home. Their hospitality was exemplary and they offered us all Fanta (which Joy purchased from a nearby shop while we were talking with his mother).

Speaking of talking with the people there, one thing that made it possible for Sridhar, Joy, and S. Mohan Raj to be our little buddies is that they could actually speak English reasonably well. This was not the case for many of the people there. At every house we went to visit the conversation was carried on in Telugu and I just sat and watched the people's expressions and body languages and thought about whatever came to mind since I had no idea what was going on. Every once in a while everyone would start laughing and look at me which would notify me that I was the topic of conversation. The funny thing was that they all seemed to expect a response, but I would just stare dumbly back and shrug. At this point, Dr. Wilson would usually say, "The comment is on you, how do you respond?"

"I have no idea what the comment was," I would reply. Then someone would relate to me what had happened and I would try to come up with something witty to say in response (which would inevitably fail). One thing that I started to notice about not being able to take part in the conversations is that it takes a lot of social pressure off. I enjoyed doing the visitations because all I had to do was sit there and reap the rewards of the Indians' hospitality and be off in my own little world, or try to guess what everyone was talking about.

The meetings themselves went well from what I could tell. We had a good turnout -- we almost filled the venue every night. Hopefully the meetings will help to jumpstart the growth of the church in Chittoor. The membership at present is VERY small. On Sabbath we had a grand total of five adults show up for the service -- the attendees were mostly kids. Not even the people who were baptized at the end of the meetings bothered to come to church on Sabbath. We did have over ten baptisms at the end of the meetings, however -- hopefully these will add to the foundation of the church.

Chittoor is a decent sized town and not at all hostile towards Christianity so the church there should definitely be bigger than it is. Unfortunately, the Seventh-day Adventist church there has gained a reputation for being both a poor person's church (there are no prosperous members at present) and a fighting church (the previous pastor and principal of the school did not get along). Please pray that these false impressions will be laid to rest by the new leadership there and that the people of Chittoor will be lead to the truth.

Chittoor: First Impressions

The following entry was written on April 10, 2009, the first full day that we stayed in Chittoor.

Well, the first part of the journey is over. We arrived in Chitoor yesterday after about three and a half to four hours in the car. We also stopped in Vellore for probably close to an hour to visit both Dr. McGees. The visit was very pleasant and we all felt much more able to continue our journey to Chitoor after a cold drink and a couple of cookies. Once we arrived in Chitoor we barely had enough time to shower and get dressed at our hotel before we needed to head off to the evangelistic meetings.

We got to the meetings and I saw that it was not going to be a large affair - which was a relief to me since I tend to get nervous in front of crowds. At the meetings I basically had two responsibilities: give the health talk and pray for the people. I was a little apprehensive about the first one since I had not brought a hard copy of the script for the powerpoint I was supposed to work with. It turned out that I was able to use the soft copy on my computer for the script and use Dr. Wilson's computer for the actual slides . One interesting thing about the talk was that it was my first time talking through a translator. I believe it went well - I can't really be sure what the translator was saying so he could have been telling them anything, really. The only problem was that we arrived late so I had to cut the talk short, which was rather awkward.

The real interesting thing about the meetings was what happened afterward. They had me pray for everyone. This may sound perfectly normal, but the reader must understand that this wasn't just a public prayer that lasted for a minute and then was over. I was expected to pray for two or three people at a time as they left. I am not sure how I feel about this. I suppose Jesus would have people gather to Him so that He could bless them. However, the people could actually understand Jesus when He blessed them. I do not believe most of the people could understand me, but fortunately, there was someone there who was able to translate some of the people's requests to me so I had something to pray for other than "Please stay with these people as they leave this place" or something like that. The only thing I am sure about is that everyone was sooo excited to have "Brother Steve" pray for them. Which brings me to my next thought. About half way through the meeting I noticed that there was a big banner on the wall behind the podium. It proudly announced the meetings and the two biggest attractions that would be there: "Dr. Wilson - Speaker, Radio Speaker, Hosur" and "Brother Steve - Family and Health Talks, Hosur." That cracked me up. They sure know how to make someone feel welcome.

After some delicious Indian food we headed back to our hotel and got some sleep (after watching a short episode of Mr. Bean haha). This morning, after singing happy birthday to Quinston "Ricky" Wilson who turned sixteen today, eating breakfast, and having worship at the hotel, we headed out for Vacation Bible School. This program was much more relaxed and turned out to be quite a bit of fun. Again, I had two responsibilities: tell a story (which turned out to be about Elisha) and lead out in the coloring activities. There are a group of boys there who have taken a special liking to me so I entertained them by taking their picture and also spent most of my coloring time with them. The story was quite interesting because Ricky was translating for me into Tamil, but apparently he's not completely fluent in it. It turned out alright though - his mother merely got up after we were done and explained the story to the kids again, to my amusement.

So far, I must admit that I'm having a good time. Resting up/preparing for the evening meeting is the extent of my responsibilites at the moment: can't complain about that. I hope the health talk this evening goes well...

Bananas... and Evangelizing

I just wanted some bananas!

I never thought that would have been a big request, but the lady wouldn't give me any bananas. I went to the shop right near the entrance to the gate specifically because I had been without bananas for the last few days and I thought it would be good to incorporate some more fruit into my diet. I went up to the counter and was greeted with the customary, "Sir?"

"Ten bananas please," I replied, gesturing to the fruits hanging behind me from the ceiling. At this shop, you ask for how many bananas you want and the shop keeper comes out and cuts them down for you. I saw that the bananas were particularly green, but that's fine -- it takes me a while to go through ten bananas anyway. I rarely get through ten before I have to freeze a couple, even if they are green when I buy them.

The lady frowned and walked out, but she did not have the knife in hand. She squeezed the bananas, frowned again, shook her head and said, "No." Then she said something in Tamil which I took to mean, "Too green."

I gestured to the bananas and said, "They're fine."

She shook her head again. "No, tommorow," she said. I tried to make it clear that I didn't care what color the bananas were, but she would not sell them to me. She even consulted her friend in the back of the shop who evidently confirmed her decision.

"So you're not going to sell me any bananas?" I asked, flabbergasted, but realizing that my arguments were not getting me anywhere. She shook her head and walked back behind the counter. I really had not planned on buying anything else, but I did not want to completely waste the trip and ended up purchasing some eggplants. The only explanation I can think of is that the price for bananas is cheaper when they're that green and she didn't want to sell them at that price. It was frustrating, but I got to enjoy my bananas a couple of days later.

In other news, I am going to help out with some evangelistic meetings near Vellore tomorrow. Pray that we'll be a blessing to the people.

The Nightmare in Nepal

The flight from India to Nepal went well. In fact, I would describe it as downright enjoyable. I just happened to get a seat right next to one of the Indian Vice Presidents for IBM. We had a very interesting talk about computers as well as about his past job history and how he became a vice president. Apparently he had worked as a programmer for Texas Instruments as well as some other companies that I had not heard of before being promoted to management.

After the flight, I met up with Mindy (who was on the plane but I had not seen yet because I had gotten on much later than her). From there we went to get our Visas. After filling out the paperwork, I went to pay for my Visa, but the lady at the desk said that they did not take Indian rupees (I had no US money on me). Fortunately, there was a money exchange desk right nearby, so I went over there to exchange my Indian rupees for US dollars and maybe some Nepalese rupees. When I got to the desk, I showed them my money and they said, "Oh no, we don't take those here." I stood with mouth agape and immediately all of the implications of that simple statement rushed through my head. I soon found out that Indian Rs. 1000 notes are illegal to use in Nepal and they would not exchange Indian Rs. 500 notes either. That meant that I was in Nepal with no money.

They told me where I could find an ATM, but when I got down there, I could not remember my PIN (I think I have since remembered my PIN but haven't gotten the chance to test it yet). Fortunately (well, mostly fortunately) there was someone there who offered to trade me my Indian rupees for US dollars. I was a little suspicious at first, but the money he showed me looked fine. He told me to give him Rs. 2000 for his $25. For some reason, my math failed me at that moment (I never think well under pressure) and I calculated Rs. 2000 to be equal to about $20. I made the trade, but as I was walking away my math skills seemed to return and I realized that Rs. 2000 was just over $40 - I had just given him $15. By now, I was sure it was too late to trade my Rs. 500 note for the Rs. 1000 I just gave him so I decided to let it be.

I got my Visa! Now all that remained was to get a ride to the hospital. Fortunately Mindy was there so she was able to pay the Nepalese Rs. 1300 for the taxi (since I still had no money). I am not sure what I would have done if Mindy had not been there - probably either fast at the airport for a week or spend lots of quality time with the ATM. After that everything went relatively smoothly (besides the taxi driver not wanting to drive the last kilometer to the hospital from Banepa).

I suppose the moral of the story would be: if you are going to Nepal, do not take Indian money with you! Take US dollars.

Real-time Update!!

That's right, I'm coming at you live from an internet cafe I found in Mussoorie. I think my family is probably wondering what I did for my birthday so I think I'll get to that first. After staying Thursday night in Roorkee with the Dass's (who were extremely helpful and hospitable) I took off for Mussoorie and arrived Friday afternoon (the 20th), and, after visiting Mrs. Keelan (who invited me for dinner on the 21st), I headed to town to get some groceries. I stayed at Valehead Friday night and the next day, Sabbath, was my birthday.

I decided that I would take the day and go on a hike to Kempty falls. Papa had said that they used to hike there when they were at Vincent Hill. What he didn't say is that they would take the trails so I took the road. Unfortunately, the journey by road was about 13 km (a little less since I took a couple of shortcuts). Needless to say, I was quite tired by the time I reached the falls and quite disappointed to see how commercialized it was (there were shops everywhere and they've even set up a cable car). After having my lunch there at about 11:10 a.m. or so (I headed out at 8), I started heading back. This time, I would be on the lookout for shortcuts constantly since I did not want to go the long way and since it was all uphill.

The shortcut search started off well as I found a path straight up to the village above the falls. After that I went a ways on the road, tried another shortcut which I gave up on, and then came to a hairpin turn where there seemed to be a shortcut leading uphill again. As I went up this one, a kid who appeared to be about 15 years old came up behind me. I asked him if the path we were on led up to the road. He said, "Mussoorie going?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Shortcut," he said and proceeded to lead me as far as his turn-off to go to his village. Then, he pointed out to me the way I should go and I continued on. I never saw the road again until I was back in town. I did meet a couple of people and asked them the direction to Mussoorie and they confirmed it was the path I was on. To give some idea of just how much of a shortcut it was, I timed from a certain point and it took me 2 hours 23 minutes to reach Kempty falls from that point and 1 hour 46 minutes to return. Keep in mind also that the way to Kempty falls was almost completely downhill and the way back was almost straight up the mountain.

When I reached Mussoorie again, I met an Indian who wanted to practice his English on me and show me all around Mussoorie. Altogether, I think I probably walked 50 km or so. After returning at 4 p.m. I had dinner with Mrs. Keelan at 6.

Well, my half hour is almost up, so I have to go. See you all next time :P

Pointless Rants

Someone who has regularly been checking my blog's site (which I'm sure so many of you are) would have noticed that I've added a link to a little website called "Pointless Rants." It's a blog that my friend Tom Schultz put up. He has invited me to write on it about technology-related things as I get the inclination. Also, and more importantly, we have been talking about putting a podcast together for some time and we've finally done it! The first (or zeroth) episode can be accessed at the website. Also, if you'd like to subscribe to the podcast using iTunes or your favorite podcast aggregator (mine is gPodder) you can do that here. That feed will also give you the blog entries.

Hopefully this podcast will be the first of many to come. It was a lot of fun to record and if it seems like I'm getting distracted or something from time to time it's probably because of some of the chat messages that were going back and forth :P.

Even My Mom Knows About Symfony

I was chatting with my mom on Facebook the other day (yes, she's on Facebook) and I noticed that my status message had not been updated in a while. I thought briefly about what to change it to, and, since I have been spending a good deal of my time lately learning Symfony via their very informative Jobeet tutorial, I changed it to: "Steven is learning Symfony."

My mom saw that I had changed my status message and commented, "Why are you learning Symfony?"

I told her that I had gotten involved in a project that was using it and that I would be able to use it for some other projects in the future, if I liked it (which I do). Then I explained to her that Symfony is a PHP framework. What came next was the part that surprised me.

She said, "Yeah, I've heard of Symfony."

"Really?" I said, with my mouth agape (fortunately she couldn't see me -- we were chatting on Facebook, remember).

"Yeah," she said, "I think I heard about it from Brad or something."

At this point I probably owe the reader a little background. My mom used to have a position supporting a database at a University and rubbed shoulders with programmers quite frequently (Brad was her boss who also happened to be a programmer). She also took a PHP class once upon a time, but I know she did not learn about Symfony from that class (I was in the class).

Despite my mother's more-colorful-than-average technical background, I think it is still quite impressive that she knows about an open source, web application framework that even I have not known about for very long. So, I will leave it up to the reader to decide: either my mom is exceptionally cool or Symfony is becoming a household name. When I put it like that, I am inclined to choose the former, but I still see this experience as an indicator that open source software is starting to make its mark on the world (love you Mom).

Shed Mountain

This past Sabbath, I got the rare opportunity to do something besides pathfinders in the afternoon. The pathfinders had a camporee this week, so no one was here. To take advantage of this rare opportunity Noy, Naphi, Jasline (I hope I spelled that right), George, Joel (one of Noy and Naphi's friends from Spicer) and I all went on a hike to Shed Mountain. I had heard many things about Shed Mountain (mostly that there was a shed on top of it and that it was a popular hiking destination for the pathfinders) and was excited to see it for myself. So, we set out, and, after an hour or two of walking through fields, climbing over train tracks, and traversing dangerously swampy terrain we reached the base of the "mountain" (it's actually just a slightly overglorified hill). We scrambled to the top and enjoyed the view of Hosur while Jasline and George picked out the plant life which had pierced them (I think there was some dead, sharp grass that got them). After that, we headed back and arrived at the campus half an hour to an hour after dark.

It was great fun to get to do some hiking again - I had forgotten how much I missed it. It was great to see some of the Indian country-side a little closer (I think I could see most of the places we went from the roof of my apartment building) and climb some rocks. I mostly wrote this post to give some background for some pictures I took on the trip. You can see all of them, as always, at my Picasa Web Album.

No Worries Just Stories

As promised, I will further expound upon my recent adventures to Shimla. As any avid readers of this blog would recall, after snake-charming on my list of activities which highlighted the trip was socializing. Anyone who knows me relatively well would know that I am not an extremely social person - I would say that I don't naturally seek out social situations, although sometimes I kick myself in the butt and make myself interact anyway. However, when one is crammed into a train compartment with who knows how many other people, some amount of socializing must necessarily happen. While I could bore you with all the details of every conversation I had on the trip (actually, that's a lie, I couldn't do that since I don't remember), I will instead use this space to relate some occurrences which I find interesting and involve people (hence the social part).

The first incident which I would like to relate is the following: I was sitting on my bench, minding my own business, thinking that I could probably stand to relieve myself since I had been drinking a decent amount of water. While I was gathering the energy to stand, I noticed that some lady in a sari was standing by our compartment (I didn't think much of it since it is quite common for beggars, hawkers, and everyone else to walk through the train). However, when I looked up at her, I thought there was something a little strange about her features. Then, I heard "her" speak. I immediately realized that this was no lady at all. I also recalled that a few seconds before Dr. Christo had made the statement, "Uh oh, here comes trouble."

At this point I had finally summoned the power of my legs to lift myself off the bench and I started towards the bathroom. As I rounded the corner of the compartment, I saw that there was another "lady" just around the corner. As I approached, s/he put h/er/is arm in my way and said, "Hi, how are you?"

I mumbled something about being good, and the thing must have recognized the wild eyes of a man who has a full bladder because it let me pass without any further harassment. I learned shortly thereafter that I had gotten off easy. The Indians informed me that sometimes on the train in India, cross-dressing homosexual/eunuch people will walk from car to car pestering any male passengers they come upon until said passengers pay them to go away. While I had escaped just in time to avoid this persecution, there were others in our group who were not as fortunate. Some of the teenagers ended up giving them 10 rupees to go away because the things were pinching their cheeks and just generally being a nuisance.

There was one other time that some eunuchs visited us on the train. We had some idea they were coming because we saw some guys literally run past and we looked down the aisle to see what was up. That time Mrs. Christo made sure that they knew that we were not to be messed with and they left us alone. Altogether, I must say it was quite an enlightening experience, although definitely not desirable.

The other major story that should be addressed in the socializing portion of my account would be the "Waste of the Paste." The train of events started on the way to Shimla and climaxed (for me) on the return journey. On the train on the way to Shimla, the guys thought it would be amusing to put toothpaste on any who fell asleep. Of course, being the reputable person that I am, I did not become involved and did not think much of it (I actually command some small amount of respect around these parts). On the return journey (note that I discovered this after the following events took place), Gerald Christo (who happens to look more like a Filipino than an Indian) and another, unconfirmed person (Elwin Daniel) decided to go on a pasting expedition. Elwin executed the dirty deeds and Gerald photographed.

In the morning, one of the girls who had been pasted decided that it was time for vengeance. To find out who she should get vengeance upon, she asked a nearby traveler describe the parties responsible for the pasting. He described the perpetrators as a tall, dark fellow (Elwin) and a foreigner wearing some sort of hat (Gerald - recall that he looks Filipino despite his Indianness). Unfortunately for me, I fit the latter description perfectly. I was innocently sleeping in my bunk when, bright and early in the morning, I was startled awake by a cold substance dropping onto my cheek. I quickly swiped my hand across my face and caught a glimpse of a body moving quickly away down the aisle. In my sleepy state, it took me probably one to two minutes to figure out what in the world the white substance on my hand was and, furthermore, what in the world had just happened (smelling the paste helped substantially). To satisfy the curiosity of the onlookers (there were some people staring) I notified them it was toothpaste and headed to the bathroom to wash it off.

I am proud to say that I took the stance of vengeance being the Lord's and did not retaliate. In fact, thanks to Gerald, I even got an apology from the guilty party. However, it did take quite a few discussions about "this poor missionary" coming to help them and all they did to repay him was all this pasting. Despite my foregoing vengeance, I believe that the guilty party did get her just desserts the next night (I think Elwin had a large part to play yet again - thanks Elwin for being the Lord's hand of justice :P ).

The CC

Yeah, I've decided to simply refer to it as the CC now. The next, exciting episode of the Crayon Chronicles is here for your viewing pleasure. Just go to my flickr photostream to check it out. Unfortunately, flickr will only allow me to create 3 sets unless I pay them money so I've had to clump everything into one set. Anyway, again, probably best viewed in slideshow.

In other news, Hotmail is the worst and I love gmail. I know what you're thinking ("he's just figuring this out?"), but there's several reasons I hadn't made the switch over to gmail (or anything else besides Hotmail). Actually, there's really just one main reason, which is exactly the opposite of what one would expect: Hotmail sucks. What? Hotmail sucks so he didn't switch? Exactly. More accurately, I didn't think I could switch and still receive e-mails from my hotmail account without paying for hotmail, which I was not going to do. This is because hotmail has no POP or IMAP support, no mail forwarding options (unless forwarding to another Microsoft account or a custom domain) and nothing else that would be remotely convenient in actually receiving my e-mails on another account. Fortunately, today I discovered IzyMail and that has all changed. Basically, what IzyMail does is read hotmail's protocol and translate it to POP (at least that's what I'm using it for) so now I can download my hotmail e-mails to my gmail account. So, you can now e-mail me at my gmail account, or continue to send stuff to my hotmail account, or just send stuff to my Andrews account and no matter what I will get it - in gmail.

There are many reasons why gmail is superior to any other web-based e-mail client I've used -- first and foremost would probably have to be the emphasis on search. However, one of the things that made me the happiest when switching from hotmail is exemplified by the following.

Notice how prettily indented everything is in the picture above - it's actually readable and (if I took the time) understandable. That's gmail. Now for hotmail:

Yeah, it's ugly, nasty and unusable. Instead of indenting it, they evidently decided to slam everything up to the left margin. I was quite satisfied when I saw that I wasn't going to have to deal with that horrible output anymore.

Thus ends my rant on gmail vs. hotmail. I apologize that I have not put up any further account of my adventures in the Northern part of India. Hopefully I'll get to that before I completely forget what happened, but the internet provider at the office has been spotty at best and I have been quite sick since I got back. Hopefully I'll be able to get it up soon.

How to Stay Sane on a Train

The moment we were looking forward to had arrived. We were finally getting to embark upon our exciting adventure to Shimla! Many of the kids in the choir had been counting down to this trip for the past couple of months. I was especially excited since it meant that I would get to see some more of the immense country of India and get to try some North Indian food for a change. The trip turned out to be quite eventful (it seems more like I've been gone for a month than just for a few days). The highlights of the trip included snake-charming, socializing, singing, sight-seeing, and shopping - all of which I would like to expound upon over the course of the next few blog entries.

OK, you caught me - there was no snake-charming involved in the trip. The only reason I wrote that was that I couldn't think of a word for "traveling" or "riding on a train" that started with an s. However, travelling was a huge part of this trip to Shimla. We loaded up the Tempo Travellers (a mini-bus type vehicle) on the 23rd of December and headed for the train station in Bangalore. From there, our adventure would proceed aboard five different trains (seven if you include the Metro in New Delhi), the two Travellers already mentioned, a bus that we chartered and the hospital bus in Shimla until we would arrive back in Hosur on the 31st of December.

I have never spent so much time on trains. We got on the train in Bangalore on the 23rd and spent that night, the next day, the next night, and the morning of the 25th on the train. Once we arrived in Delhi on the 25th, we had about an hour to wash up before performing in the Christmas program that afternoon. Then, after lunch and a bit of shopping, we had to get aboard another train to take us up to Kalka. We spent the night of the 25th on the train (actually, more accurately it would have been the morning of the 26th since our train was three hours late) and arrived in Kalka on the 26th. Then we took the Shimla hospital bus up to Shimla (about a 3 hour drive). The next couple of nights we stayed in Shimla (Friday and Saturday), but then on Sunday it was time for the trip back. This trip started down the mountain from Shimla to Kalka on the "Toy Train." Unfortunately, it was dark out so we did not get to enjoy the view as much as we would have liked, but it was still a pleasant trip. It did take significantly longer than the bus ride, though, at five hours. After reaching Kalka, we switched trains and arrived in Delhi the next morning (the 29th). From Delhi, we hopped on the bus that we had chartered, and, after a quick stop at the Union office for some breakfast, we headed for Agra. I would estimate that it took us about five hours to reach Agra from Delhi. After some sight-seeing at the Taj Mahal, it was off to yet another train station. This time our train was a grand total of seven hours late. We were supposed to leave around 11 p.m. I believe, but the train did not arrive until around 6 a.m. So, Tuesday the 30th and most of the 31st were spent on that train. Finally, we arrived in Bangalore at around 8 p.m. and got aboard the Travellers again for the ride back home. Phew. For those of you who weren't keeping track, that means that out of the 8 nights that we spent on this trip, 6 of them were spent on a train (or in a train station).

Fortunately, I find train travel to be quite fun (for the most part). Certainly, there are some things about it that are less than desirable (Old Delhi station, I'm looking at you), but for the most part, it is not difficult to entertain onesself. During the trip I finished three books and read over 400 pages of another one, learned a few new games, and played a number of rounds of Taboo.

Despite the fact that I find train travel in India fun, it definitely does have its pros and cons. The arguments for it are that it provides plenty of time to read (which I took advantage of) and socialize (which I took less advantage of), it's cheap, and it gets you from point A to point B.

Unfortunately, there are quite a few cons to train travel in India as well. The biggest of the cons is that it is dirty. Old Delhi station was probably one of the dirtiest places I've ever been. There was trash everywhere and one could watch the rats scurry back and forth under and around the train tracks. Coincidentally, the train that we took from Old Delhi to Kalka was the dirtiest train I've been in. We were located right next to the bathrooms which provided quite a pungent aroma to sleep to. Also, the bunks themselves were quite filthy, which meant that it was beneficial to grab a wet-wipe and clean a spot on which to lay one's head. Another point against train travel in India is that it can be more dangerous than other forms of travel. One has to watch out for their belongings so that they are not pilfered. Fortunately, I have not had any such thing happen to me yet, but I have been warned time and again to be careful. Also, the trains are a common target for terrorist attacks (from what I hear) - especially in the Northeast. The final argument against train travel in India is that it is crowded.

If there is one thing that I dislike more than anything else about India, it is the Indian concept of crowd control and lines. There is no courtesy here - no holding the door for others, no letting someone else go first. It is all push, shove, elbow, and force onesself to the front. The greatest example of this would have to be an experience I will relate that took place on the metro in New Delhi. We had boarded the metro and were arriving at our destination. When we reached the station where we were to disembark, we found that there was a solid wall of people vying to be the first one to leave the platform and set foot on the floor of the carriage (sorry, I've been reading too much Sherlock Holmes - at any other point in my life I probably would have said "train-car"). Now, any logical person would realize that it would make a great deal of sense to let the people who were already on the metro get off and then board once there was more room, but, apparently, these people had been so entranced by the "me first, me first" attitude that all logic had left them. Seeing that I would have my hands full with getting off the subway, I planned my attack. Selecting a middle-aged man who was looking particularly selfish, I lowered my shoulder a little and when the doors opened I plowed into him. To my immense satisfaction he stumbled backwards and I am sure he was at least the second person to board the metro that day. After that it was considerably easier to navigate because someone else had already cleared a path for me.

Unfortunately, this tendency of the crowd to become selfish is exemplified all to well on the Indian trains. It was not an uncommon occurence for our entire group to get on the train with our luggage and then not really be able to move or do anything because everyone was trying to get situated all at once. I would try to contribute to this as little as possible by getting out of the way, but part of the problem was that there was not that much room to work with. One other problem that relates to the crowdedness of the Indian trains is that of squatters. Squatters are those who do not have a ticket for a seat (usually due to being on waiting list I believe), but decide to take up a seat anyway. This is all fine and good, unless they decide to take your seat. (I must mention that my understanding of the booking system of Indian trains is not extensive enough to be able to explain all the details of how all of this happens - I think I have heard of cases of someone having four tickets for only two seats and cases of two people being booked for the same seat, but only one of them was confirmed - it's all quite confusing to me.) This occurred to us when we boarded the train from Agra back to Bangalore. We all got aboard with our luggage and found that there were no open bunks where there most definitely should have been. I have always been one who takes delight in righteous justice so I can say that I did get some pleasure from waking up four or five people who were lying on the bunks that we had claim to. What I could not believe was that a couple of them had the audacity to ask to see our tickets. They knew that they had no claim to the seats, but yet they made sure that we did before giving them up. Even after showing them the tickets, some of them still tried to stay and just take up less room, but we would have none of that - once we started moving their luggage for them, they seemed more willing to give up their perches.

Travelling on Indian trains is definitely not for the faint of heart, but for the adventurous spirit it can be quite an experience and even - I dare say - fun. Now that I have related the greatest chunk of what happened on my trip to Shimla (when measured by time), the readership can expect further relation of my experiences in coming posts.

When Monkeys Attack!

This was written on the first day (Friday) of my recent trip to Yercaud, India. We had a youth camp up there in the mountains and I thought I would keep track of my experiences over the weekend. Unfortunately, I only wrote about one of the days, but it was the most interesting, so think of it as me sparing you from the rest of the details.

After waiting for the bus for 2 1/2 hours, it finally showed up so that we could start our adventure. Apparently it was a government bus and government workers here typically are not very conscientious about their work. We were supposed to leave at 6 a.m. which is when I showed up at the Division office, ready to go (to my surprise I was the only one there). After five minutes of looking around, wondering if I had been left, the leaders of the group showed up and the rest of the people filtered in over the next hour. To summarize, we had finally decided to skip the idea of breakfast on the bus and began to eat when the bus pulled in.

It was a 5 hour drive to Yercaud (our destination). The ride was not uneventful - one highlight was a bunch of us guys walking out into a field to relieve ourselves only to be chased off by the gentleman who apparently farmed it. Other than that, the climb up the mountain was the only point of interest. One event that occurred during the climb was that I finally obtained photographic proof that there are monkeys in India! We must have seen at least 5 groups of monkeys on our way up the mountain. We would pass them sitting on the wall and they would chase the bus. I'm not sure if this was because some of the guys were leaning out the windows holding banana peels or if they just enjoy chasing large vehicles.

Another interesting note about the climb involved the road. It was very narrow and had 20 tight, hairpin turns (I didn't count them, they had signs that would say "hairpin n/20"). To get an idea of how tight the turns were, know that the bus actually did not make one of them - it had to stop and perform a 3-point maneuver in order to continue climbing the mountain.

Now that we're at our quarters we have had a chance to see just how nice they are. We're staying at a Catholic institution called the "House of Peace." We saw some nuns when we were pulling into the driveway. The only issue I foresee is that the beds are ridiculously hard. I would be worried about toilet paper, but I was smart this time and brought my own. The next thing will be to see what the afternoon hike has in store.

Later Friday evening...

Well I definitely have some even more convincing proof of monkeys' existence in India now. This afternoon after a short devotional talk we went on a "nature walk." This basically consisted of walking through the town (or hill station as the Indians call it) of Yercaud. The town is actually quite sizable and it is an interesting one too because there are Catholic schools and churches everywhere (at least I think that's interesting). After walking through the town we finally reached our destination - a stunning viewpoint which looked down on the plains below.
While our group was there, taking pictures and goofing off, a couple of guys started attempting to talk to me in broken English. They asked me, "Who are you?"

To which I replied, "Uhhh, my name is Steve." Then they asked me what was in my water bottle. I told them it was water.

"Hot water?" they asked.

"No, cold water," I replied. At this point, their friend joined the fun. Next they asked me to take their picture. I complied and showed it to them. Then, after some talking amongst themselves and laughing, I think they asked for me to have a picture taken with them. So I had someone from our group snap the picture.After that they left me alone for a while, but later they came up and started to talk to me again, but this time I could not understand them. One of the group (Mary) translated and apparently they thought I was alone and were trying to get me to go to the garden they worked at nearby. When they found out I was with the group and did not want to go to the garden they pretty much left me alone.

Shortly after this stimulating conversational experience is when the real magic happened: A monkey jumped up on the railing of the observation deck!I was quite excited and quickly snapped a picture. Then Athul went over to stand next to the monkey and I was preparing myself to take a picture of that, but just as I was about to hit the shutter-button, James lunged at the monkey. To my surprise, the monkey lunged back, and this is the moment that I hit the button and took the picture.Next the monkey (who was now joined by his buddy) jumped down from the railing and started towards the people. In the panic that ensued I side-stepped the monkey (with at least three people behind me using me as a human shield (I felt like I was tanking - that's for you, Rob)) all the while holding my camera up, trying to set up another good picture. I did manage to get another one, but not until both monkeys had crossed the observation deck.Then they disappeared over the railing, emerging only once more to quickly nab some chips off the railing.

So that was Friday. As I said, the rest of the weekend wouldn't make nearly as exciting of a story. It can be summed up as thus: we had a number of spiritual talks, I got "the trots" and was out of commission for Saturday night (I suspect the beet salad), and we went on a couple of other hikes around the Yercaud area. All said, it was a pretty fun excursion and I definitely got to see and experience some new things. If you would like to see the rest of the pictures from the weekend (including a few more shots of monkeys!) you can check out my Picasa Web Album.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving! I didn't get the day off from work, but one of the American workers here (Brenda Robinson) invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner! I can't wait. :P

The Crayon Chronicles

It all started when I received a gift package from Andrews University (the school that I attend for those who do not know - haha, I crack myself up pretending people I don't talk to regularly or am not related to read this). This gift package contained several things which I was quite happy to see - namely peanut butter, a pretty nice water bottle, a shirt, and some other snacks. However, on the bottom of the package, much to my surprise, lay a broken-open box of crayons and what used to be its contents strewn about in various states of disrepair. I thought to myself, "Crayons? What do they think I am, a fourth grader?" Because, to the best of my remembrance, that was the last grade that I had used crayons.

I didn't think much of it and stowed the crayons back in the box. Then, later that day, I was chatting with Ashley (a student missionary in Thailand whom I met while visiting Mike) online and she said that she was sending me a letter. I thought to myself, "A letter? What does she think this is, 1885?" but responded, "Oh... cool," or something like that. Then, later, as I was walking back to my abode, I was thinking that I would have to send her something back (she mentioned that one of the reasons she was sending me a letter is because she knew how much she liked receiving letters). Then, the crayons popped into my mind. "Hmm..." I thought, "I could write a letter in crayon." Then I had another thought. As those who have been around me on Sunday morning know, I love comics. As those of you who've seen my sister's last Christmas present to me know, I really like comics (The Complete Calvin and Hobbes Collection, aw yeah). What a lot of people don't know is that I've always wanted to draw a good comic, but haven't really wanted to spend too much effort on the drawing and haven't wanted to copy the likes of xkcd (which I love). So, I thought that drawing a comic in the theme of a childish drawing in crayon would be perfect. So, that's what I did. I drew a couple of comics, took pictures of them, and sent them to Ashley. And now I will release The Crayon Chronicles upon the world!

(I suggest viewing them as a slide show)

New website!

For everyone who has requested it (Mom and Dad) here is the link to one of the websites I'm working on: http://www.adventist.org.in. Feel free to make suggestions and check back often as it will hopefully be evolving over my time here in India.

Diwali

Today, the 27th of October, 2008 is the Hindu festival of lights known simply as Diwali (insert shameless link to "The Office" here). Apparently, the big thing to do to celebrate is to get a bunch of firecrackers, fireworks, and other explosives and set them off (much like Independence Day in America). There is one slight difference, however: whereas, in America, we tend to wait until night time on the 4th of July, the people here start the day before the actual holiday and then continue setting off the fireworks pretty much non-stop until who knows when (it still hasn't ended). They go all through the night, too. At least I think so -- I can't vouch for the hours 12, 1, 2, and 3 in the morning since I was out cold at said times, but I know that at 4 a.m. the fireworks were going strong, at 5 they were still going and it has sounded like a war zone all morning. One of my friends here stated very accurately that Diwali would be a great time for the terrorists to make their move. I think I'll try to stay inside today. . .

Unfortunately, since Diwali is a Hindu holiday, the Adventists here at the Division office don't get a day off, *sigh*. Ah well, I guess I'll have something to do while I'm doing my best to avoid any explosions in my proximity.

Speaking of explosions, I heard my second major car accident last night. I say "heard" because I've never seen a real, car-crushing accident, but I have heard two. Last night I was just about to head home from my friend's house and I had stepped outside the door and was saying my goodbyes when we both heard a loud screeching followed by a sickening, explosive crunching noise. We hurried out to the gate because we could tell that it was quite close. Apparently, what happened was (I'm not sure exactly how) a large truck hit a small car. When we got there, the car was still there (and did not look to be in very good shape), but the truck had sped off. The driver of the car was obviously not very happy about this, but there was little that he could do (I don't think he got the truck license number).

Well, it's barely even Monday and this is shaping up to be quite an eventful week.

New Essay/The Search for Food

Well, I have another essay for everyone to look over (if they feel so inclined). I actually think I like this one better than the other one. It seemed easier to write and I think it is still funny while not being quite as over-the-top (although not too far off). Feel free to criticize and please tell me which one you like better.

Picture this: a scientific experiment gone wrong. Having defeated earth, aliens control everything. Mankind struggles to survive, but only a few are strong enough to mount any resistance. One man rises above the other resistance fighters to distinguish himself as the one to whom mankind must trust its survival – a physicist. He was there when the portal to the alien dimension was opened. He was there when the aliens tried to call reinforcements from their home world. He was there at every pivotal moment when mankind's fate hung in the balance, and at every one of these moments, it can be seen that he was the turning point on which the human race's existence hinged. What most people do not see is that throughout each of his heroic exploits there was always someone else there, supporting him. Whether it be hacking into the alien security systems or simply short-circuiting some alien technology, she was helping him.

Another scenario: the sun is dying out. Humans do not have much longer to call the earth their own unless something can be done about the cooling sun. Fortunately, there is one device, developed by a physicist, which may be able to give the sun the energy it needs to burn as brightly as it used to. An atomic bomb roughly the size of Manhattan. As one would expect, there are many complications with flying a bomb into the sun. Extensive shielding, complicated life support systems, and immensely powerful engines are all necessary. Eventually, against all odds, the physicist, with the help of the crew, is able to complete the mission and “restart” the sun – at the expense of his own life as well as the rest of the crews'. What most people did not think about when reflecting on this physicist's heroism was that there was always someone there supporting him – she guided the ship, controlled the life support systems, and did a great deal to keep him alive until he reached his mission's destination.

If either of these scenarios sound familiar, it is because they are both from popular media. The first is the plot to a very popular computer game franchise that goes by the name of Half-life. The second is the story of a movie released in 2007 called Sunshine. If there is anything that we can learn from these stories, it is this: a physicist, one day, will save the world. It is inevitable. Some day the world will be threatened by some sort of abnormal disaster – such as an asteroid, a dying sun, or aliens – and it will be left up to one, heroic physicist to save the day (probably via an atomic bomb).

When this physicist saves the world, he (or she) will no doubt get all the glory, but recall that there was an entity supporting each of the physicists in the scenarios. In Half-life her name is Alyx Vance; she is what I would call a hacker. Whenever Gordon Freeman (the protagonist of Half-life) needs to get through some security system or simply needs to get control of a nuclear reactor, he turns to Alyx. She has impressive computer skills and there is no way that Gordon would accomplish half of the feats he does without her.

In Sunshine, the supporting entity goes by Icarus. She is not a hacker, but very closely related. She is a computer program herself. As was mentioned in the scenario, she has complete control of the ship and is the main reason that the sun-bombing mission is successful. Of course, since she is a computer program, someone had to develop her. Behind her artificial intelligence there was some programmer, sitting at his desk, plugging away at her source code.

So we see, there is another lesson to be learned from these two scenarios: no matter how much glory and praise the physicist who saves the world gets, there will be a programmer who was just as responsible for man-kind's existence. I will be that programmer, if it would have me. In order to pursue such a path, I will need an education. In order to pursue my education, I will need money. In order to get money, I will need scholarships. I deserve the “mental_floss Tuition Giveaway” money more than anyone else in the world because without me, there will be no world.

Now, back to real life: for those of you who do not already know, I have been cooking for myself this week. It's been going pretty well (lots of oats and noodles), and last night I went to Hosur to get some more food items (the Division Office has free transportation to Hosur every Thursday night). What I really wanted to get were some vegetables and potatoes. At the first place the people from the office directed me to, I could only find spices and some flower, so I went to where they said I could get some fruit. At the second roadside stand I came to, I was elated to see that he had potatoes - I got 1 kg for Rs.45. Then I went on some other adventures to see what else I could find and ended up acquiring some onions, apples, and oranges (never did find any vegetables besides the onions).

After shopping, on the way back to the office, some of the people in the bus were asking how much I paid for the stuff I got. When I told them I paid Rs.45 for 1 kg of potatoes, they shook their heads and said that it was waay to much for potatoes. I shrugged and figured I had just learned a lesson and that next time I would know that potatoes should be cheaper.

This morning, I decided I would try my hand at frying some potatoes. I picked a couple out of the bag and thought, "Hmmm, these seem awfully squishy." Then, as I began to attack them with my knife, to my surprise, it popped open and a large black seed popped out. "This isn't a potato at all, I thought to myself." Turns out they were chikoos. Fortunately, they taste really good, but I didn't get to try frying anything. Ah, well, maybe next time.

Moved In

Well, I finally moved into my apartment. It's pretty exciting having the whole deal to myself, with the kitchen and everything. One of the first things I did after getting my stuff moved in was to go to get some groceries. I was at the office and saw my friend Eben, and said, "Hey, you wouldn't happen to want to go to the station, would you?" He agreed pretty quickly and we headed for the station (the supermarket is right by the train station). He had his motorcycle, so I got on the back of that and we rode to the station. I think it was probably the most dangerous thing I've ever done. Riding in that traffic in a car is bad enough, but on a motorcycle with the only thing between my melon and an oncoming bus being my friend in front of me is quite an experience. That's how the great majority of people around here get around, though, so who am I to judge. It was actually pretty fun.

An a very different note, my mom directed my attention to this contest. I think I'll give it a try. I'll probably end up going through a few ideas in search for the perfect essay to submit, but I already have my first iteration. I will post it here and let you all tear it apart.

I deserve to receive your scholarship because I am a vegetarian. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, “Ah, a vegetarian – finally, someone actually worthy to receive our scholarship. ” Of course, it is only natural that you would entertain such thoughts, but I am afraid you may not be acquainted with all of the many reasons that a vegetarian should receive your scholarship. Therefore, I will proceed by explaining the many benefits you will experience from choosing a vegetarian (me) to receive your scholarship.

Vegetarians are not cannibals. Because it is common knowledge, I fear that this fact is often overlooked. You can rest assured that if you bestow this scholarship money upon me, I will not simply use it to get into the more educated circles so that I can feast on tastier brains (I hear from some of my non-vegetarian friends that smarter brains are tastier).

Now that you are not afraid I might eat you, I would like to turn your attention to the fact that, since I am a vegetarian, my brain is actually tastier (better developed). It has long been established that eating vegetables makes one's brain work better (at least that is what parents have been telling their children for the last few centuries). Therefore, since I do not eat animals, I eat almost solely vegetables (with some fruits, legumes, and grains thrown in from time to time). It stands to reason, then, that my brain would be better developed than the average non-vegetarian. This hypothesis has been partially confirmed by my academic record, but that is bordering on being outside of this essay's scope.

Another reason that I, as a vegetarian, should receive your scholarship stems from the motive behind my vegetarianism. I am not a vegetarian to save animals from a brutal death. Neither am I a vegetarian because I dislike certain animals – such as beef-cattle – and want to see less of them in the world. I am a vegetarian because I have always been a vegetarian. I believe I can count the number of times I have eaten meat on one hand. “So what that I have rarely eaten meat? Why does that matter?” I'll tell you why that matters; I am consistent. Once I start something, I tend to stick with it. “Oh big deal – how hard is it to stick with what you've grown up with? That may be consistency, but it's the easiest kind.” To the people who would propose that I say: Do you know how many times I've turned down a seemingly delicious dish whose only flaw was that it contained meat? Do you know how many times I was ridiculed in High School by the other kids, always inquiring how my “lettuce sandwich” tasted? Do you know how much more difficult it is to order a cheesy beef and potato burrito “with beans instead of meat” than to just go with the default option? Do you know how annoying it is to return to the counter because they got your order wrong AGAIN (actually, I think that one is universal)? I hope that I have made it clear that it takes consistency to be a vegetarian. I will be consistent.

There is another secondary, yet still important, reason that I am a vegetarian – I believe that it helps keep me healthy. My commitment to health is yet another reason that I am worthy to receive your scholarship. While the other candidates acquire heart disease, have strokes, mentally decay, and break their hips while crossing the street and get hit by trucks, I will be in good physical condition. I am a worthwhile investment. I will do my very best to outlive my peers in an attempt to get you the best return from your money – the longer I live, the longer your money will be at work.

I believe that I have made it quite clear that I, as a vegetarian, am clearly worthy and deserving of any scholarship money that you impart upon me. I have shown that, due to my vegetarianism, I will provide the best return on your investment possible by outliving the other candidates, being more consistent in my use of the money than the other candidates, and having a more highly developed brain than the other candidates. Also, on top of that, I can assure you that I will eat neither you, nor your friends, nor your family members, which I cannot say about the other candidates.

They say that the essays should match the "mental_floss style of writing." Unfortunately, I don't really know what that is at this point (I plan on doing a little research), but I'm afraid this one might be a bit too over the top. Nevertheless, I would welcome any grammatical/spelling/organization corrections or suggestions.

The Apartment and other Monkey Business

I finally got the key to my apartment!!!

Before anyone asks, no, I haven't moved in yet, but I could if I really feel like it because I have the key! The only reasons I haven't moved in yet is that there is no stove or refrigerator, which wouldn't be the end of the world since I can still eat at the cafeteria, but I don't have any sheets either. I think that this lack could be a bit of a problem. Aside from the moving in technicalities, the big news about my apartment is: it's huge! I was very much surprised at the size of the apartment. I think this calls for a picture tour.

The apartment has several rooms. Two bedrooms. One which I will probably leave mostly empty unless I think of something cool to do with it and another one to actually sleep in.

There's a shower room and a bathroom, which is good since both of these things are pretty high on my list of requirements for places that I inhabit. The toilet will probably take getting used to. I had purposely avoided these types of toilets in the past (I saw a couple in Hyderabad), but it looks like they have finally caught up to me...

Then there is a kitchen, an entry way, a room connecting the kitchen and the entry way, and another multi-purpose room which currently has a desk and some chairs in it.

Finally, the most exciting room is not even really a room at all - I've got a balcony! Score! Not much of a view, but I can hang up clothes and stuff if they need to dry.

So that's it for the news about the apartment. On to the monkey business. I have seen several more monkeys since the first sighting, but I hadn't been near my camera until today. In fact I saw a rather large monkey climbing the tree right outside my office window one day, but I had left my camera in my room. Regardless, today I was going up to my room when I saw a monkey sitting right in the middle of the road. I muttered, "Monkey!" under my breath and rushed to my room to grab my camera. Of course, the key didn't seem to want to unlock the door because I was in a hurry and when I got back the monkey had moved. It didn't take me long, however, to spot him at the other side of the tennis court from where he had been previously sitting under one of the trees. I calmly walked down the stairs and started around the tennis court (I didn't want to bother with any pictures through the fence of the tennis court). Unfortunately, as I came to the end of the tennis court and started around the corner, he spotted me and started climbing up the tree he had been sitting under. Undaunted, I walked over to the bottom of the tree hoping to get a picture of him in the tree. He would have none of it. He very quickly climbed to the top of the tree (it was no short tree) and started jumping between the trees away from me. I calmly followed him on the ground, but after he had crossed all the way to the other side of the grove of trees and started back the other way, I gave up. I could catch glimpses of him from time to time, but I usually just knew where he was because of the branches shaking and the weird noises he would make in his throat (it sounded almost like he was trying to clear it) so I wasn't able to get any pictures. One day I will have proof that there are monkeys here in picture form (unless, of course, I've been imagining them this whole time - if this is the case just smile and nod when I show you a picture of a tree and tell you there's a monkey in it).

Now that the monkey business is concluded, I would like to present some miscellaneous pictures I've taken. The first set is from Deepak's birthday. Deepak is the two-year-old son of one of the employees here at the division office. He had quite a get together planned which involved most (if not all) of the employees from the office. It almost reminded me of a dedication ceremony - only longer.

It all started with some singing.

The birthday boy.


As I said, there was quite a crowd.

Of course, the best part was that afterward we got food.

Ah, almost forgot the proof that I was there. Naphi was messing with my camera.

The other set of pictures which I have taken which need explanation come from the realm of my guest room. For a couple of Sabbaths, the kids from the Tamil church which meets right near my room would entertain themselves while their parents talked after church by breaking into my room. Actually, technically I let them in the first time, but since then they think that they can come and go as they please. I'm fine with it, it's just that one particular time I was *ahem* using the facilities and I have taken to not shutting the door since I'm the only one in the room, but this particular time I was not the only one in the room. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I walked out of the bathroom and found a couple of kids standing there. Another peculiar thing is that one of the kids keeps asking me for foreign chocolate, so I have to tell him I don't have any. Anyway, one of the days they asked me what was in my camera bag so I showed them the camera and, of course, they wanted me to take pictures of them. I don't think I'll bother including them here, but you can check them out at my picasa web-album.

Hopefully I'll be able to move into the apartment this week. Unfortunately, when I do I'll have to start cooking for myself so pray for me, just pray...

Tiger Mountain

For those of you who don't know, Justin Chen is one of the awesomest people I know. He's been at camp the last couple of years that I've been at camp and we always have a good time. He was my computer buddy in the staff lounge more often than not (he was always in there writing for his blog which you can find here) and we both share a passionate love for mountain biking.

We went mountain biking quite a number of times around camp and, one fateful, beautiful day, we both got the same day off and went on a little expedition to Tiger Mountain.

It was quite the adventure - I had a guide that outlined a trail to take, but we also did one shorter trail (about 4 miles) at the bottom of the mountain beforehand and went up to the east summit (about 3 miles round trip). I believe it was about a 20 mile ride altogether - and it was completely awesome.

Tiger Mountain is definitely in my top three favorite trails. It's maintained by the Backcountry Bicycle Trails Club and anyone who rides it can definitely tell that it is built and kept up by mountain-bikers. The lines (while often littered with roots and bumps) are absolutely amazing. There are log rides, small berms, and all kinds of other stuff.

If the reader is wondering why I brought all this up a couple of months after it happened it's because Justin just sent me the pictures he took from the day off. So here they are. All of the action shots are quite blurry, but it's just because I was going so fast. Enjoy them. I did.